From SHOBA DE's column DE DISCOVERS *Navhind Times*
We went to Goa in search of Goa and came back bitterly disappointed. Don't get me wrong. I still adore the place, but what I do miss is its 'Goa-ness". We ate here, we ate there, we ate everwhere -- and what did our palates tell us? We aren't in Goa, this must be Jallunder. In a simple phrase -- "this isn't Goan cuisine". The Punjabisation of Goa is complete, at least in beach shack kitchens.
Whether you ask for the famous stuffed crab or chicken cafreal, everthing has tandoori masala sprinkled literally over it. That is, when the cook hasn't gone overboard with the soya/chilly sauce. Every beach eatery proudly announces a special *tandoori* section (Chicken tikka? We've got it.) And nobody serves Goan poi (home-baked bread) or fat rice any longer. It's garlic naan, basmati or nothing.
A *vindaloo* now means Maggi sauce with red chilly powder, and don't even bother even bother with prawn balchao, unless you want to gag on a watery mess with a few limp shrimps floating sadly in it. Xacuti and cafreal have disappeared from the most menus, and aren't worth risking. The one thing that hasn't changed is the friendly Goan smile which makes you gulp down rubbish at a fancy price without reacting violently.
Baga beach has gone topless with a vengeance. And there are as many fat cows on deck chairs as there are wandering around in search of discarded pineapple peels. The real ones (cows, that is) are an absolute menace.
Displaced from their sheds (villagers hire out the same space to bead-sellers from Karnataka), the lost creatures head straight for the foreigners on the sandy strip -- not to ogle the bare breasts (udders?) on parade, but root around for papaya, oranges and coconuts, which are sold by toothless old ladies in nine-yard sarees, who speak fluent German, French and Italian, but no English.
Hash-sellers smoke joints lazily while making a fast-buck off English back-packers from Manchester. "Get stoned?" they ask casually without even bothering to lower their voices. Little girls from Andhra roll up to sell tasseled beach sarongs. (*)